His Turn, Her Turn
by Lady Etiquette
Summary: Matthew and Mary both experience sudden, impuslive, poorly timed amorous needs; but in different ways. These two vignettes are pure confection and have no redeeming value whatsoever. Thank you to Julian Fellowes for his wonderful characters!
1. Chapter 1

His Turn – May 1922

Matthew gazed out the window of the large meeting room, daydreaming. He was oblivious to the discussion occurring among the other members of the law firm who sat around the table, discussing a case. He blended in with the group of lawyers, all well-dressed in dark suits, white shirts, and neckties. But unlike his colleagues, he sat with chin in hand, distracted by the flowers in the garden, and the warmth of the sun shining through the window. His thoughts were filled with Mary.

All morning long he had been preoccupied by her and the memory of their night together the previous weekend. His mind was filled with images of her body, the feel of skin against skin, their sweat and humid embraces, and the sounds their love making enticed from both of them, which had echoed around their bedroom…and still fogged his mind. He crossed his legs again, hoping to stop the hard ache he felt stirring in his groin.

"Crawley?" The senior partner, Mr. Walker, seated at the head of the table, was looking down over his wire frame glasses, addressing Matthew in a commanding voice. "We haven't heard from you yet, my good man. What do you think?"

Matthew straightened up quickly, a bit off guard, and slightly flustered. His hands re-arranged some papers in front of him, and he cleared his throat to speak. "Well, Mr. Walker, I think that…"

But his remarks were interrupted. Mr. Walker glanced down at his watch, and waved his hand in a friendly manner. "Hold your thoughts please, Crawley. It's been a long morning. Why don't we all take a recess, everyone?" The room of men murmured in agreement, and they began to disperse, sliding their chairs out against the hardwood floor and mingling.

Matthew sighed in relief. _Thank God_, he thought. His body felt tense and tingling. He stood from the chair, smoothing his hand down over his necktie, heading to the men's room in a brisk manner. He hoped the walk and some cold water would ease his frustration and redirect his body's one track mind.

He passed down the hallway quickly, noticing Miss Patterson, the secretary, who was bending over a file cabinet. He glanced at her legs, and the seam of her silk stockings that ran up the back of her calf. Her backside was prominently in view as she bent over, the skirt pulled tightly across it. He ran a finger inside the collar of his shirt as he ducked in to the lavatory. He was glad to find himself alone.

He made quick work of using the restroom and then washed his hands, letting the tap water grow ice cold. Bending down, he splashed some of the water on to his face. The bracing sensation felt good and cool. Reaching for a linen towel, he patted his face, which was now pink from the cold temperature of the water. He pulled a comb from his breast pocket and slid it through his hair. "There now," he breathed out, assessing himself in the mirror. He felt normal again. He raised his chin and confidently headed back out.

Heading toward the conference area, he ran in to Miss Patterson again. This time she was standing, reviewing a file. The top button of her blouse had come undone and Matthew saw the peach skin of her collarbone, and the hint of a cream colored lace camisole. She glanced up at him, revealing her large brown eyes and full lips. "Can I be of assistance, Mr. Crawley?"

Matthew stopped in his tracks, making an effort not to look at the front of her blouse. He felt his heart rate increase as he smoothed a hand down his necktie again. "Um, No," he stuttered. "But thank you, Miss Patterson. I think I'll just be in my office for a moment." He nodded at her with a polite smile and then darted down the hall in that direction.

Stepping inside the bright room, he shut the door behind him and leaned against it. _This is madness_, he thought. _What was the matter with him_? He shut his eyes to collect himself and then opened them again, taking a deep breath. He felt his body was semi erect, and when he glanced down at the front of his trousers he saw the slight bulge. His head fell back against the door with a thud as his eyes slipped closed again. "Good, God," he said to himself in the quiet, sunny room. He looked around and then glanced down at his watch. Another thirty minutes before the meeting would reconvene. He could do something about his current condition in the lavatory or here in his office; he felt ridiculous and juvenile even needing to contemplate it. He pulled his hand over his face as he thought about his options.

As he was thinking, there as a knock on the office door, startling him.

"Mr. Crawley, sir?" The soft, breathy voice of Miss Patterson on the other side of the door wasn't helping his situation.

Matthew pushed himself from the door and opened it, standing slightly behind it. "Yes Miss Patterson?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, sir, but Mr. Walker wanted me to let you know that a conflict on his calendar has come up and the remainder of the meeting is being re-scheduled for tomorrow. So your schedule is free for the rest of the day today." She smiled, holding several files in the crook of her arm. "Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"

Matthew swallowed and nodded in return, trying to smile but clenching his jaw. "No, but thank you for letting me know." He pulled the door fully open and reached for his coat and hat from the coat stand by the door. "In that case, I have another appointment I should attend to, so I'll be stepping out for a while."

Sliding his hat on, and draping his coat over his arm, which he held in front of him, Matthew walked passed Miss Patterson and quickly headed out of the office and toward his car. To the best of his knowledge, Mary did not have anything in particular on her schedule today, and so he knew—dear God he hoped—he would find her at home.

The drive from Ripon to Downton was not really very far—but today it seemed like an eternity. Matthew kept finding himself stuck behind slow moving farm vehicles, the occasional carriage or lorry. His whole body thrummed, and the thought of touching and kissing Mary caused him to shift in his seat. He drove over a set of railroad tracks and the vibrations from the car went straight through to his crotch, and he nearly climaxed at the sensation. He groaned and laughed to himself that he had an hour for lunch because whatever was going to happen at the house was clearly not going to take that long.

* * *

Mary was standing in the middle of the kitchen at Crawley House, arms crossed in front, analyzing a new set of curtains over the sink. "I don't know, Carson, do you think they're too dark?"

Carson stepped beside her to appreciate the curtains, his head angled, a hand to his chin in thought. "I don't know, Lady Crawley." He straightened his head. "They are a little dark, yet the fabric and the colors are quite nice in this room. But of course it is your decision."

Mary smiled at her favorite butler. "I think you might be right. And I wish you would call me Lady Mary again."

"I believe we've been through all that, my Lady, for the past two years. You are married, and as such the title should accompany your last name." He stood slightly to attention, his hands at his back.

"I liked it when you called me Mary."

Carson was aghast. "I beg your pardon; I never addressed you simply as Mary!"

"Alright then, I liked it when you called me _Lady_ Mary. Whatever it was, I liked it and I wish you would do so again." Mary smiled at him and rubbed her hand on his arm.

Suddenly, Matthew appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, a little breathless, his hat and coat in his hands, and holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Matthew!" Mary's face brightened with a smile. "What are you doing home so early? It's only just after one o'clock?"

"Well," he began, a little awkwardly, running a hand through his hair, "I had a meeting today that was cancelled, so I thought it would be nice to come home to see you." He smiled, stepping forward to hand her the flowers. He kissed her cheek, lingering and brushing his lips against the side of her mouth.

Mary held the bouquet to her nose, breathing in the fresh botanical fragrance. "Mmmmm…lilacs! My favorite." She looked at Matthew and noticed he looked different somehow. His look was more of a gaze—he was staring through her, glancing down over her body, his eyes dark and reckless. He was smoldering.

The hint of a smile played at the corners of Matthew's mouth as he watched her. She held the flowers against her face, her eyes sparkling back at him. He was becoming light headed since his blood supply had rushed to the center of his body, which he still covered with the coat over his arm.

Carson reached over to take the bouquet. "If you'll allow me, Lady Mary, I'll put these in a vase for you and put them in the drawing room. And then I'll be upstairs taking care of a chore in Mr. Crawley's study."

"Oh, lovely, thank you, Carson."

Carson balanced the items in his hands and left the kitchen, his footsteps disappearing down the hall, and off in to the house.

Before Mary could even ask him what he was _really _doing home so soon—although she guessed—Matthew crossed over to her. Dropping his coat on the floor, his mouth returned to her cheek, kissing her and sliding his arms around her. His lips traced a path to her ear, where he nuzzled her. He buried his face in her neck.

Mary's eyes widened in surprise. "Matthew!" She breathed heavier as he kissed her neck. "What's gotten in to you?"

"You," his voice was deep and filled with desire as he spoke against her neck, kissing her. "God, you smell so good, Mary." He pressed against her, nudging her back up against the kitchen counter.

"Matthew…" She could feel his whole body, his hard desire pressing against her. Her arms were out to her sides, bracing her against the counter as he rubbed against her. "Oh, Matthew…." Her head fell back as he kissed and licked her neck. Her hips jerked back against him, rubbing his hard member. "How long have you been like _that_?"

He was brushing his lips against her ear, whispering. "Since about seven o'clock this morning." His breath felt warm and moist, and he ground himself in to her, releasing a groan from his throat. "Uuuunng, Mary…"

Mary shivered; her eyes slipping closed, and chuckled sympathetically at his admission. "Oh, my, dear…," she murmured against his cheek. One of her hands was in his hair, petting him and pulling him to her. She fluttered inside at the thought that Matthew had been aroused all morning, thinking of her, and raced home in the middle of the day to make love…yet stopped to buy her lilacs.

His mouth silenced her thoughts with a kiss, caressing the inside of her mouth with his tongue. She parted her lips wider to let him take her mouth deeper, moaning heavily. Mary felt her center throb, wetness trickling between her thighs. One of Matthew's hands moved down to her hip, pulling her skirt up, and he slid his hand between her legs. Her core felt hot and drenched. His lips and tongue teased her mouth as he spoke. "Oh, Jesus, Mary…." He was breathing hard.

Mary looked at him with a glimmer in her eyes. His expression was filled with aching need. She gently pushed him back, taking his hands in hers, and leading him toward the walk-in pantry around the corner at one end of the kitchen. Stepping inside, she clicked on the soft, dim light, and turned to pull him in with her. He left the door ajar so they could hear if Carson came back. As he closed in to her again he looked down to watch her fingers unbuckle his belt, slipping it loose, and pushing his pants open. His aroused body was straining, dark and hard as steel. Mary's mouth watered at the sight, her hands caressed the head and felt him leak warm droplets on to her palm.

His dark eyes looked at her hands and then at her gaze. He leaned forward kissing her and tonguing her again, as her hand wrapped around him. "Uuuh, God, sweetheart, I'm so close…" His hands trembled with desire as he traced his fingers over her bust line, his eyes glancing down to watch the outline of her nipples form against the fabric of her blouse.

Mary's heart was quickening. Nothing like this had happened before, and her body now needed Matthew as much as he needed her. Her arousal was so intense her toes curled inside her shoes and her insides clenched, wanting him. "Oh, Matthew..."

He nudged her up on to the pantry ladder, which leaned at an angle against the shelving. He guided Mary up several rungs on the ladder until they were eye to eye….and center to center. His hands pulled her skirt up around her hips, and he slid one hand between her legs, inside her wet under garment, to open her, his fingers becoming soaked by her slick essence.

Mary smiled, positioning her bottom on one of the rungs, and wrapped one leg around Matthew's hip. As he reached down with one of his hands to guide myself in to her, he looked at her with heavy lidded eyes. "Uuuuuuund…," he whimpered as Mary slid her hands around the sides of the ladder to balance herself for him. He spread his feet apart for leverage.

"Take me," she whispered to him.

His hips moved slowly at first, his eyes gazing in to hers. The sensation quickly became overwhelming and he began to thrust deeper. He slid her other leg around his hip, so that both her legs were wrapped round him, opening her wider to him. They both groaned at the deeper penetration. His hands smoothed down around her bottom, his hips jerking against her, his cock pounding in to her. Matthew clenched his teeth, trying to hold back the climax that had been building between his legs all morning.

Mary, holding herself against the ladder, stifled a moan, her head swaying with the rhythm of their bodies. The ladder creaked with their movements.

Matthew's cheek brushed against hers, his head shaking with the motion of his thrusting hips, pounding his thick member faster and faster. His hair fell over his eyes. He panted as he thrust, "….gonna….cum….so…hard…."

Mary's head fell to one side as she watched his eyes roll back in to his head, his mouth open, breathless, perspiration beaded his forehead. He was so beautiful in the moment. At the sight of him, she was over-taken by her release. "Oh, God, Matthew, yes..!"She bit her lip to keep from screaming, tightening her hands around the rails of the ladder, and feeling her muscles inside clench around him. She felt tremors coursing through her whole body.

His hips began snapping erratically….his hands gripped her hard, his face grimaced. His groan became louder and heavier. Matthew's body tensed, "Aaaaaah, Jesus..!" he cried out. Mary reached with one of her hands, placing it over his mouth to muffle his ecstasy. Spasms wracked him as his hips slammed in to her, over and over, flooding her deep inside with his steaming hot life.

He slumped against her, Mary's arms and legs still wrapped around him, holding him up and to her. His face dropped to her neck. He was gasping for breath. "Oh, Mary…" His brain was still impaired by sex and orgasm, so it was all he could say. He kissed her shoulder as he came back to himself.

"All better?" Her voice was rich and velvety in his ear. Her remark was tinged with a little humor and affection, and she brushed a hand through his hair.

"Mmmm hmmm…" He nodded, chuckling, his cheek brushing hers, his arms tightening around her to hold her so she could step down from the ladder. "I love you."

Mary stretched her legs down, which ached as she did so, her arms around Matthew's neck. The little pantry room felt humid and stuffy. She looked up at him, smiling. "I love you, too." He helped her smooth her skirt back in to place, and as he did she placed a kiss on his cheek.

After helping Mary, his hands finished buckling his belt and pants. A lock of his hair hung over his forehead, and Mary's fingers slid it back in to place. He turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand.

Mary whispered, "I need to step down the hall for a moment."

Matthew's arm pushed the pantry door open, and the kitchen air felt cool and welcoming. Off in the distance, they could hear Mr. Carson's footsteps descending the staircase.

"We could have been caught!" Mary whispered breathlessly back at Matthew.

He smiled mischievously. "I think that was half the thrill of it," he murmured. Mary walked off toward the ladies room, pausing to smile back at him.

Matthew ran a hand through his hair, as Carson entered the kitchen. "Mr. Crawley, I'm going to have to go up to the main house to assist Mrs. Hughes with her ladyship's afternoon tea for the Downton ladies hospital auxiliary."

"Yes, 'course," Matthew nodded, fleetingly wondering what might have happened if they had been caught?

After Carson had departed, Matthew went upstairs to the bedroom, loosening his necktie, stretching out on the bed, his arms at his side. He closed his eyes and relaxed.

Mary appeared in the bedroom doorway, smiling at him. She stepped to the bed, gently sitting down beside him. She touched a hand to his cheek, making him smile. "I'm glad you came home today, even if it was quite a surprise."

He hummed in relaxation, reaching up with one of his hands and laced his fingers through hers, holding her hand. "Me, too."

"You know, in America, they would call what we did today a 'nooner'."

He opened his eyes to look at her in mock consternation. "I do not want to know how you know that."

She laughed. "What would you have done if I hadn't been at home?" Her question had a mischievous quality to it.

"Clearly that question is rhetorical as I think we both know the answer to it," he said matter-of-factly, "and I'd rather not think about it, thank you very much."

Mary giggled and bent to kiss him sweetly on his lips. "Just remember, it might be you one day who is taken by surprise for an unannounced, or unplanned….um, _rendezvous_, shall we say?"

He chuckled against her lips. "Well, then, as that will be your turn, I will be yours to do with as you please, won't I?"

Mary stretched out her long fame next to Mathew's on the bed, their hands linked, her head on his shoulder. He pulled her to him, rubbing his temple against hers, and drifted off for an afternoon nap together…sated and dreaming.


	2. Chapter 2

Her Turn – January 1923

Mary sat in the darkness of Royal Albert Hall, wearing her calf-length black satin chemise Chanel dress and long white opera gloves, letting the beautiful Puccini aria reverberate around her, as her eyes stole a glance at Matthew, sitting beside her. He was dressed in white tie and tails, which, of course, she had seen him in a thousand times; but this evening, she couldn't take her eyes off of him. She had been noticing him earlier in the evening, as he shaved and dressed. His blond hair was perfectly combed and he smelled incredible; his gold cuff links and shirt studs—her grandfathers, which pa-pa had given Matthew on their wedding day—glistened beautifully in the dimly lit room. All in all, she felt he looked altogether yummy and good enough to eat. She shifted in her seat, running her fingers along her long strand of pearls, thinking about him and feeling his close proximity to her.

She liked opera, although Matthew was the real opera aficionado. When it came to the performing arts, she preferred the ballet; and they both had grown to prefer spending evenings at the American style jazz clubs that were popping up all over London. Still, she loved gala evenings, such as this one, and Madame Butterfly was probably her favorite. But this evening, her thoughts and physical attention were distracted by her husband beside her.

As the music cascaded throughout the great hall, Mary slid a gloved hand over toward Matthew, resting it on his thigh. Ever so gently, she rubbed her hand against his leg, and he, in turn, lightly placed his hand on top of hers.

She looked over at him, and just as she did, he carefully glanced over at her, an endearing smile on his face. His hand patted hers innocently, and he discretely leaned toward her so their shoulders touched, then returned his attention to the stage and Puccini's unfolding tragedy.

Feeling bolder, Mary slid her hand higher on his thigh, toward the apex where his leg joined his body. As her hand moved, her fingertips traced the inside seam of his black trousers, providing a feather light touch to his upper leg. As her hand brushed against him, Matthew sat up straighter in his seat. He looked around him, checking to see if anyone noticed, and shot a somewhat perplexed look at Mary from the corner of his eye. She held her hand still, smiled and let her hand remain where it was, for the time being.

After several moments, Mary's fingers began to trace tiny circles on the inside of her husband's thigh, sliding her fingertips lower and closer toward his center, which felt warm. Matthew straightened one of his legs, adjusting his sitting stance again. He gave Mary a stern look, made evident by one of his eyebrows arching up. His astonishment had widened his eyes, so even in the darkened theater she could see their brilliant blue color. He lifted her hand up and set it gently back down on the arm rest between them.

Matthew angled his head down, looking at her from under his brow, in an attempt to make a silent rebuke, imploring Mary to cease her gestures. She could tell that his look was not a genuine reprimand, but a somewhat frustrated glare. She smiled at him, noticing that he was breathing deeper and his eyes had darkened. She turned her attention back toward the performance on the stage in front of them.

Matthew kept his stare on her for a second longer; then, satisfied that Mary's mischief was done for the evening, he ran a hand over his white vest, straightening himself, and turned to watch the performance again.

After several moments, Mary turned her head and leaned toward him, as though to whisper something. Matthew cocked his head over to hers to listen, but instead of saying something she tenderly kissed his ear and her hand slid back down in between his legs, directly over his warm groin, rubbing him lightly. His hand shot down to catch hers, stilling her motion, but not before his hips had slightly jerked and his breath had hitched in his throat, his eyes shutting in angst…or was it excitement?

Suddenly the aria ended, and applause erupted loudly throughout the auditorium. Matthew took advantage of the momentary intermission and looked directly at Mary with stern telepathy. She was smiling at him, tugging discretely on his hand, as she scooped up her purse and playbill, then stood up and headed down the row of chairs toward the aisle, murmuring her excuse-me's to the other guests. Matthew glanced around again, then stood and followed her, making excuses to all the seated patrons along the row as well. Once in the aisle, Mary gracefully but quickly headed for the exit, with Matthew right behind her.

She pushed through the lobby doors first, with Matthew trailing her. "Mary!" He called after her, trying to keep his voice low, following her down the red carpeted staircase, and around a corner. They found themselves in a deserted narrow hallway. "Mary!" He was whispering loudly out of exasperation.

Mary turned to face him, smiling and sympathetic to his frustration.

Matthew bent his head down to speak to her, keeping his voice hushed. "Have you gone completely out of your mind?"

Mary touched a hand to his jacket lapel. "Oh, Matthew, we have both seen Madam Butterfly at least ten times, and some of those performances were better than this one, and you know it." Her face was filled with affection and her voice was teasing and flirtatious.

"Well, yes," he stood up straighter to state a position, his hands on his hips, "even so, may I remind you that Mr. Walker, the _senior partner_ of the law firm, is seated directly in front of us with Mrs. Walker?"

She moved closer to him, her eyes looking at his lips. "Yes, yes, I know."

Matthew released an exasperated exhale, his tone light. "I thought you liked them?"

"I do like them, very much, it's just that…" The palms of her hands were on his chest, sliding inside his jacket.

"What…?"

His sentence was cut off by Mary's lips as she suddenly kissed him, warmly, and gently nudging him backward against the wall, his head thumping gently against it, his hands out at his sides. He breathed through his nose and couldn't help but sigh at the feel of her wet mouth. "Mary…"

She pressed him to the wall, her hands reaching up and around his neck. The tip of her tongue rimmed his lower lip, then she pulled back to look at him. The exasperation in his eyes had been replaced with intrigue and sentiment. "Mary, what's gotten in to…?"

But his question was muffled by another kiss. Mary's lips moved effortlessly over his, her tongue tenderly opening him, slipping inside his mouth. His head angled, permitting her to kiss him more deeply, and he couldn't contain the moan that vibrated from his mouth in to hers. His arms wrapped around her, his palms smoothing up over her back. Alone in the corridor, they kissed long and deeply for several minutes, before finally pulling back.

He smiled and looked in to her eyes. "Am I to understand, that all of this was because you wanted a kiss?"

Mary chuckled. "Not, exactly." Her eyes were dark and her hips were discretely rubbing up against his.

Matthew sighed. Their lips were so close they were breathing in to each other. His hand reached up to touch her cheek. "What then?"

She grazed her lips over his making him shudder, speaking in a deep, suggestive tone against his mouth. "I want you, Matthew."

He smiled, kissing her, whispering under his breath. "_Surely_ you cannot be suggesting that we…" he cleared his throat for effect, "…_do something_ intimate, here, at Royal Albert Hall?"

Mary playfully rolled her eyes. "Do I look like a woman who do would something so risqué and disrespectful in an historical building?"

Matthew seemed relieved. "Well, I am glad to hear it."

"Actually, there is a small hotel just around the corner." Her eyes bore in to his and her hand roamed over the fly of his trousers, her fingertips tantalizing him.

He huffed out a laugh and his eyes looked upward and then back down, enjoying the feel of her hand. "If you recall, we have a room at Claridges," he pointed out.

Mary kissed him and rubbed her nose against his. "Yes, but that is clear across town. It will take at least fifteen minutes to hail a taxi, and then another thirty minutes to the hotel with evening street activity."

Matthew whispered in to her ear affectionately. "Are you telling me that you cannot keep your knickers on for forty five minutes?"

"Well, I probably could…if I were wearing any."

Matthew's head snapped back to look at her, his brows arched, his eyes glancing down toward her mid-section, and then back to her eyes. "You mean, you're not…?"

Mary shook her head. "No, I am not." Her eyes were glittering at him.

Matthew paused, blinking his eyes. He straightened his jacket and his posture. "I'll get the coats."

* * *

Five minutes later, Matthew and Mary stood outside the hotel that Mary had seen. The sign above the hotel door read, 'Chesterton Hotel – Hourly Rates'.

"_Hourly rates_?" Matthew was shocked, pulling his over coat tighter. "Mary, do you have any idea what the term _hourly rates_ implies?"

She nodded. "Of course. I wasn't hatched out of an egg as a lady of Downton Abbey." Her hands pulled up the collar of her black mink fur coat around her neck to warm her in the January night.

He smiled, looking down at her. "Yes, you were." He laughed. "And for the record, it means that the majority of the things that go on in this flea bag establishment—and I am using that term generously—are _illegal_."

"I know…" she whispered, her mouth grazing his jaw again, working its way to his ear lobe. "But I have a good lawyer." She teased, as she placed wet kisses on his jaw line. "And I am aching for you so much it hurts."

"You are a wicked girl, Mrs. Crawley." Matthew was having trouble thinking straight. He looked at her with the same expression he used the night he proposed, when she informed him he would need to ask on bended knee before she would answer.

"Alright, Matthew, if you really don't want to, I understand…" She turned to walk away. But his hand shot out and stopped her.

"I didn't say I wouldn't," he was smiling at her, "I just said that you are wicked."

She smiled and nuzzled his cheek with her nose, and slid an arm through his.

"But," he held up a finger to make his point. "Let me do all the talking."

May turned to him sarcastically, "Oh, and suddenly the man from Manchester is some big expert on flea bag establishments?"

He smiled at her as they walked in to the entry way. "I wasn't hatched out of an egg as a solicitor and the Downton heir."

She looked at him with some surprise.

He winked at her, whispering in her ear. "I've been to a few stag parties in my day. I can assure you…you are in very good hands, Lady Crawley."

Mary blushed at the thought, stepping through the door he was holding open for her.

* * *

After checking in and purchasing a room for one hour, Matthew and Mary made their way upstairs to the room on the second floor. As they walked down the hallway, passing other rooms, Mary could make out what sounded like people breathing and groaning from within other rooms. She tightened her arm around Matthew's "Can you hear that?" She asked in an intrigued whisper. "It sounds like people making love!"

"Shhhhh," he cast a knowing eye her way, "Keep your voice down, Mary. And I would hardly call what people do here as making love."

"Alright then, it sounds like people are _shagging_."

He smiled back at her slightly surprised. "Where the devil did you hear that word?"

They shared a laugh as they arrived at the room. Matthew unlocked the door, and held it open for Mary, and then followed her in, closing the door behind them.

The room was dingy, threadbare, and smelled like antiseptic. There was a double bed in the center of the room, with two night stands with lamps which lit the room. At the other end sat a small square kitchen table and two chairs.

"Well," Matthew breathed out, "I've seen worse…not by far, but I have seen wor…"

He was cut off again by Mary's lips as she pressed him up against the door, devouring his mouth. He grunted, his hands reaching around her waist, pulling her in to him. They both moaned as their bodies touched.

Mary rimmed his lips with her tongue. "I think the man at the reception desk thinks I'm a tart."

Matthew looked at her with heavy lidded eyes, his voice deepened with desire. "I rather like the sound of that." His hands moved up to her shoulders and he pushed her around, until her back was up against the door, and he was kissing her, plunging his tongue deep in to her mouth, his hands moving up and down her torso. He shrugged his coat off and let it fall to the floor, and then he knelt down on to it, in front of her. He looked up in to her eyes as his hands smoothed up her thighs, and under her skirt, lifting up the hem to her waist. Mary's hands helped him raise her dress and she watched, mesmerized, as his head dipped between her legs.

As she had told him, he found that she was, indeed, not wearing panties. His fingers rubbed her swollen sensitive folds "Mary, God, you are soaking wet," he breathed out. As his hands parted her open, the warm cream between her legs dripped all over his fingers. He moaned out loud and bent closer. His tongue licked her and swirled round her bud.

Mary's head fell back against the door. "Yes!" Her hand went down to his head, her fingers in to his hair. She loved the feel of his head moving between her legs and the feel of his mouth and fingers on..._in her._

He was carefully sliding a finger inside of her, moaning as he worked her. "Oh, Christ, sweetheart," he said against her, angling his head back so he could slide his tongue up in to her, his teeth brushing her clitoris.

Mary screamed, "Ahhhhhhh!" Her hips bucked as her climax jolted through her. She had one hand on the door knob and the other twisted in Matthew's hair, struggling to hold herself up as she came against his mouth.

He wrapped his hands around her upper thighs balancing her, and he opened his eyes, looking up to watch her release. Her eyes were shut tight, her mouth open and her body was bucking against him. He was breathing in to her, licking her through her orgasm, drawing it out. He felt painfully hard between his legs, so he moved one of his hands down and unbuttoned his pants, freeing himself. He stroked his hard member, causing his eyes to close with the pleasure.

Mary was panting, recovering from her release, and tugged on him to stand up. As he stood, she looked at him, his mouth and chin wet from her body's release, his pants opened at his hips. His straining, full hard cock was exposed. Mary reached down and took his shaft in her hand, moving her hand up and down. Matthew leaned against her, one hand braced on the wall behind her, his hips moving as she pumped him. He gave her a deep opened mouth kiss, sharing a moan with her.

"Matthew?" her voice was a deep whisper. "Let's make love…with you standing behind me…"

He pulled back to look at her, gazing deeply in to her eyes, trying to make sure he heard her correctly. "What?... You mean? " They had never done anything like that before. And in Matthew's entire sexual experience he had performed the requested act on precisely one occasion, during which he had felt mostly inept and clumsy.

"Yes, that is exactly what I mean." Her eyes smiled at him with abandon. "But, you will have to help me since I don't really know what I'm doing…"

Her voice was sweet, and it touched him that she presumed he was an expert. He had always thought that position was overwhelmingly submissive for a woman, yet, he thought, perhaps when people love each other it would be alright?

He looked around the room and exhaled, "Well, the bed is off limits—God only knows the last time the linen was properly cleaned."

Mary giggled…and was nibbling his neck again.

His eyes stopped on the table. "Come here…" he tugged at her hands, pulling her toward the table. He reached around her shoulders and pulled her fur coat off. He draped it over the table, mink side up. He helped her pull her black dress up and off over her head, and he laid it over one of the chairs, followed by her black slip. They pulled her hair combs out and her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. She was only wearing her garter belt, stockings and shoes and jewelry, so Mary began to remove the long strand of pearls she was wearing. But Matthew's hand stopped her. "Um….why don't you leave those on?" He whispered coyly, and they shared a kiss.

Smiling, Mary pushed his tail coat over his shoulders and he shrugged to help it slide down his arms and to the floor. Mary's fingers then worked to untie his white tie, which she pulled off, dropping it after the coat on the floor. His braces were pulled down over his arms, and they both worked to open his shirt, which hung open.

Mary turned her back to him, her arms curling up around his neck behind her. She loved the feel of her naked back arching against his chest, and his aroused member hard against her backside. He bent his head to kiss her ear and then her mouth, his hands sliding over her breasts, caressing them and finger-tipping her nipples. Mary groaned up in to his mouth. "Oh, Matthew…" She felt her body throbbing and drenched for him.

He carefully helped her position herself on the table, bending over the mink coat, palms down in to the mink, her legs apart. He bent over her, a hand on either side of her head. "Mary?"

She turned her head to look at him. "Yes?" Her voice was deep and full of arousal.

He nuzzled her hair. "If something isn't right, or if this bothers you, just say so and we can stop…alright?"

"Mmm…" She leaned her head back so she could kiss him.

He stood back up and smoothed his hands over her back and down over bottom. He slid several fingers between her folds, groaning at how wet she was. With his other hand he held himself and pressed inside of her. As he sunk in to her, Mary let out a long groan…."Ooooh, God, yessss…"

He smiled to himself. Her center was dripping wet, so it was easy to move his body inside of her. He slid out and then slowly back in, his hips moving him in and out, gradually building their rhythm to her body's needs. His hands on her hips, he pumped her deeply. As he thrust, her body bounced back against him, deepening the penetration even further. He groaned out loud at the sensation, causing him to increase his pace. His eyes closed and his head dropped back on his neck at the incredible feel. He had never felt Mary's body from this angle, so it was new and exhilarating.

Mary's hands fisted in the fur, her breasts swaying with the motion of their movements, and her nipples brushed against the mink which caused her center to clutch harder. Her body tingled all over, and the feel of his thick hardness inside her pushed her more and more…to the brink until she couldn't contain it any longer. "_Oh, Matthew, yes…harder."_ Her release over took her and she cried out, mewling loudly in to the room.

Matthew's hands gripped her hips, feeling her sex clench around his swollen cock. He was panting and groaning at the feel of her orgasm and the intensity of the position. He reached down to one of Mary's knees and gently lifted it, bending it, setting her knee on to the seat of the chair beside him. This braced her better and opened her a little more.

He began thrusting harder and faster, and reached around to caress her nipples. He bent over her and Mary turned her head to kiss him and keened in to his mouth. Matthew was unable to hold back his own sounds of ecstasy, groaning loudly in to her. He was close…_so close_…

He stood back up and his hand reached to touch her clitoris. Mary's head snapped back, her hair flying on to her back, crying out erotically as another climax quaked through her body. She moaned and cried in rhythm with his thrusts.

As her muscles fluttered around him, Matthew's body ached. He slammed in to her again, and again…over and over. "Oh, God I can't hold it!" His back went rigid—his mouth opened in a silent scream until his orgasm burst out from him, and he sobbed in rapture, his release shooting deep inside of her. Mary's hand held on to the table as he bucked against her, the evidence of his orgasm seeping between them.

She sighed and lay down against her coat. Matthew leaned forward on his hands, pressing kisses to her back and shoulders. She hummed as she felt his sweet ministrations on her skin.

He rested his cheek against her shoulder, sighing, catching his breath. "Are you alright?" He whispered affectionately, but his voice was still filled with desire.

"Mmmmm…" she hummed back to him as her head nodded in to the mink.

His hands reached up and his fingers laced through hers. After catching his breath, Matthew stood and helped her up, turning her around so he could see her. His hands brushed her hair out of her eyes.

She rubbed hands on his chest looking up at him. "Have you ever…been intimate in that pose before?"

He knew the answer, which was yes, but he rephrased it. "I can honestly say I have never made love before in that way." He bent his head and gave her a chaste kiss. "And that was definitely the first time on a mink coat."

She looked at him suspiciously, teasing him. "That sounds like a lawyer's answer. And I thought you said people don't make love in these types of hotels?"

He smiled at her sweetly. "I wasn't referring to us. And it is the truth, honestly." He held her slip up to her. "Come on now, our hour is up."

She laughed. "Mmmm…_thank goodness_. I need a bath."

They tidied up, dressed, collected their things, donned their heavy coats and headed back downstairs, dropping the key off at the desk. Stepping out front on the curb, Matthew held up an arm and a black taxi pulled up. They climbed in the back, and Matthew slumped down in to the seat in relief, a hand over his face. "I _cannot_ believe you dragged me in to that place!" A teasing chuckle erupted from him.

"I did not drag you! As I recall, I offered to skip the whole thing, but you grabbed my arm and insisted!"

They were laughing now. He reached over to her.

Mary smiled tenderly at him and their eyes met. They held a silent look for several moments, and then she nestled her head against his shoulder. Matthew wrapped his arms around her and that is how they sat all the way to Claridges' hotel.


	3. Chapter 3

Epilogue

Their Turn - Claridges, Room 420

Assessing herself in the bathroom mirror one last time, Mary tightened the sash of her robe and turned to join Matthew in the other room. She found him stretched out on the sofa in the sitting area, wearing his pajamas and robe, in his bare feet. His eyes were closed and an open book lay flat against his chest.

Her head dipped to one side as she admired him, then she gently sat down beside him on the edge of the sofa. Her fingers brushed several locks of hair from his forehead, and he hummed, welcoming her touch.

She spoke sincerely to him. "Thank you for putting up with my shenanigans this evening, Matthew."

"Shenanigans?" He asked tongue-in-cheek, his eyes still closed. "Two hours ago it was _shagging."_

Mary laughed and leaned forward to kiss his chin, and kissed his lips innocently.

"I must warn you, Mary, if you are looking for an encore performance, it isn't going to happen. I'm not physically capable of it."

She touched her forehead to his, chuckling in agreement. "I'm beat, too."

His eyes slid open and he regarded her light-heartedly, turning his head to look up at her.. "Can I ask you a question?"

Mary cocked her head. "Of course."

He paused, thinking how to ask it. "About tonight…"

"Oh, I know, it was crazy and adolescent of me, wasn't it?" Her expression revealed that she truly felt bad about it all. "I'm sorry, really I am."

"No, no...," he started, "I was just wondering…" He paused again, "that is to say…you would tell me honestly, if I was less than dazzling in our personal matters, wouldn't you?"

Mary looked at him and suddenly realized how he had interpreted the evening. "Oh, Matthew. I love our life together in every way." Her tone was reassuring.

"I mean, you'd tell me if my repertoire was getting a little _predictable_? I'm British, so it is entirely possible, and I may not realize it's happening."

Mary scooted up, putting a hand on either side of his head, looking at him squarely. "Oh, Matthew. My silliness this evening was purely a result of my own…love for you. Just like our little rendezvous last May when you popped home from work unexpectedly…remember that?"

His eyes looked up as he thought. "Of course. How could I forget the kitchen pantry?" He looked at her with a grin and his hand clasped round hers.

She smiled in to his face. "Did you rush home that day because you were unsatisfied with me in some way?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Quite the opposite. I rushed home because I needed….well, I think you know what I needed…" he said it a little bashfully. "Thank God Carson didn't need a jar of pickles."

"Exactly." Mary's nose brushed his and they kissed. "But that doesn't mean you want kitchen pantries all the time, just like I certainly wouldn't want….well, 'what we did tonight', all the time either."

"Thank, God, because, honestly Mary, I don't think I could handle it." He laughed out loud.

She laughed with him. "Me, either!"

He looked at her intently. "I missed seeing your eyes…"

She angled her head. "What?"

His voice was sweet and sincere. "Tonight. When we were together. It was exciting and fun, but I missed…I missed seeing your lovely eyes as we…"

She gave him a raised brow, "….as we shagged?"

He chuckled. "Alright, while we were _shagging_…I missed looking in to your eyes." He traced a finger over her lips. "It's part of it for me." He kissed her tenderly and gingerly brushed his mouth against hers. "I suppose that's why I like the more predictable things….so I can see you…" He kissed her, "…and make love to you."

She bent down and rested her cheek on his chest. His sincerity and sentiment made her cry a little with happiness, just like the first time he ever kissed her.

"Still, once or twice a year, being impetuous has its merits." he was rubbing her back.

She kissed his chest through his pajamas. "So, you get a turn, and I get a turn, for some impulsive behavior?"

He thought about it. "Yes, I think that's quite nice. Each year-_his turn, her turn."_

"Only once a year?" She asked.

"I'm afraid that's all I can handle. I'm not eighteen anymore."

She rubbed her cheek against him, her fingers tracing a pajama button. "Speaking of being eighteen, what about those stag parties you mentioned? Are you going to finish your story about those?"

His hand stroked her hair, and his other hand caressed her arm tenderly. "When we're old and gray, Mary…when we're old and gray."

Fin!


End file.
